Scamp Rock
by Cascade Waters
Summary: Memorize this line, hotshot. WARNING: Contains non-sexual spanking of a teenager--don't like, don't read.


Scamp Rock

by firechild

Rated T

Disclaimer: Not mine, not sure I'd want 'em (Brown had potential, but all the screaming 12-year-old girls can have the Jonas brothers.)

Warning: Um, duh.

A/N: As so many do, this movie just begged for it, and today for some reason I've managed to finish three things (including this one.)

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"Okay, that's it, I'm done."

Brown tossed away his hand towel in disgust, whirling on his heel and striding out of the kitchen toward the docks, the one place he was pretty sure that his nephew would be. Shane had ditched class for the third time--which was worse than bad, considering that Shane was supposed to be teaching those classes--and Brown had just gotten an inadvertant tip from Connie that the boy had been a prima donna toward one of the kitchen staff. Since when had Shane stopped being the sweet little ham with the heartthrob voice and turned into an echo of Sean Penn with a talent for causing headaches? Well, that was it--this was the end of it. He had been tapped to look after the boy, and by all that rocked, he was going to start looking after the boy's attitude by looking after another part of him.

As expected, Brown found his nephew on the docks, hiding behind his guitar and some foliage, trying to be invisible to his fans. Well, Brown was one of his oldest and truest fans, and he saw Shane, and there was nothing that Shane could do about it.

Ten minutes later, Brown, Shane, and Shane's beloved guitar, which had been a gift from Brown about a year ago, were back in the cabin the two shared, with Brown taking a seat on the end of the bed and Shane taking an unexpected dive over his uncle's lap. Brown hadn't said a word since he'd found the boy, which Shane should have taken for the warning it was, and now he let his hand do the talking, knowing that Shane knew what he'd done to land himself here. It wasn't until the indignant protests had taken on a tired and distinctly damp edge that Brown added one of his still-bleeding-it-was-so-rare lectures to the mix.

"You do not skip classes, any classes. You do not shirk your responsibilities just because you want to think that you didn't choose them. You do not put the responsibility for your attitude and actions off on everyone else. You do not go around acting like you're somehow better than everyone else. And you do not take your frustrations out on others, especially those who are working hard and taking their responsibilities seriously, and especially when they are working hard to do something for you."

He took a deep breath, propped his right heel up on the bottom of the bed frame to elevate the boy, and added a log to the fire he'd created on the boy's undercurve. Shane had gone limp a few swats before, sobbing piteously, and Brown stopped well short of causing any real injury, taking a second to massage his hand before using it to rub figure-8s in the small of the teenager's back, as he seemed to remember Shane liked.

"Now, are you ready to listen to reason?" He kept his tone low and even, and was glad to see Shane nod. "Right, then. Now, we're gonna go over this, and this time I expect you to put as much energy into remembering this as you do for memorizing lyrics.

"First of all, in case it's escaped your notice, you're here now because your attitude is out of control and is endangering not only your reputation and career, but your band's, as well. I know you don't want to be here--believe me, the whole world knows--but here you are, and because of your own choices, so you might as well accept it and make the best of it, maybe even learn something--about these kids, about music, about what it's all supposed to be about since I think you've forgotten, about yourself. Second, you need to bring your nose back down to terra firma before something snaps it off; I love you, boy, you know I do, but as special as I think you are, you've no right to be a snob. These people are all here trying to find for themselves what you seem to be trying hard to throw away, and most of them are willing to work their butts off to achieve it; that doesn't make them pathetic, pitiful, or less than you--it just might make them a tad smarter than you at the moment." He paused for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths before leaning down, laying a hand over the back of the boy's head both to focus his attention and to add a level of contact. "And, pup, you know I hate this kind of thing, you can count on one hand how many times I've done this with you, but if I ever hear of you skipping a class again--any class, anywhere, whether you're teaching or not--or talking to anyone the way you spoke to the kitchen girl, I promise you, I don't care how old or rich or famous you are, I will come to wherever you are, and we'll be right back in this position, without the pants, and I just might not bother taking you someplace so comfortable and private. Hear me?"

Shane had tensed at the last part of the speech, but after a hesitation, he nodded, and his uncle responded by rubbing the dark head for a moment. "Good lad. Feel like getting up now?" Shane hesitated again before nodding. "You sure? I'm not in any rush to get rid of you; I just know this isn't your favorite position." Shane nodded again, taking a shaky breath as he started to try to figure out how to get back on his feet. Having grown up in a modern house, he didn't have a whole lot of experience with this kind of thing--it probably really was his fourth or fifth spanking ever, with two of those having come from someone other than his beloved uncle. He really hoped that he never got any more experience; he loved his uncle and loved spending time with the man, but this was most definitely not going to be his favorite bonding memory. Problem was, not only did he feel really rotten for having obviously upset and embarrassed this normally unflappable guy, but Shane knew his uncle well enough to be absolutely sure that the man kept his promises and would keep the one he's just made if he felt he had to.

Ironically, Brown came to the rescue in the logistics problem, gently helping Shane to stand; the uncle gave the nephew a wry smile. "Not my first tour." He let the boy run his hand through his hair a couple of times, giving him a minute to look at everything but Brown in abject embarrassment, before the man reached out and gently pulled up the young chin, forcing eye contact. "You gonna live?" The teen nodded, and Brown pulled him into a hug. It wasn't long, but it was tight, a reminder that they were okay. When he patted Shane on the back and pulled away, he looked at the boy, forcing himself to be firm again. "Now, pup, you need to get yourself cleaned up and combed, and get yourself to where you're supposed to be. You may not want your life anymore, but those kids out there do, and they deserve the best chance possible to find out for themselves whether it's worth the trouble."

Shane blushed, knowing that his uncle was right. He started for the little bathroom, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. Shyly, he twisted to look back at Brown. "I... I'm sorry."

Brown gave him an encouraging smile. "Good. Now let it go, and get moving. Remember, you've still got a voice to find and a sound to invent."

--


End file.
